


Not the same

by masongirl



Series: Request Game drabbles [2]
Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Drabble, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Post-War, Reunions, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masongirl/pseuds/masongirl
Summary: George visits Joe at his apartment after the war, and they realise some things aren't how they used to be.
Relationships: George Luz/Joseph Toye
Series: Request Game drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792132
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Not the same

**Author's Note:**

> Requested as part of a game I posted on Tumblr [here.](https://speirtongirl.tumblr.com/post/621121012587757568/request-game) :)

  


Countless times over the past year, Joe has dreamt about this moment. When George steps back into his life, into his ramshackle apartment and Joe's personal space. He imagined George happy, broken or angry, he replayed the memory of his gestures in sunshine and rain and snow, trying to picture how it would go, but nothing could have prepared him for the full force of seeing him again after so long. He's sitting at the wobbly table across from Joe and talks about skiing and meadows and blonde Austrian girls as if the war was nothing but a long vacation. His hair is longer and the hue of his skin is healthy and tan, his cheeks are full. Nothing like the washed-out man Joe remembers leaving behind in Bastogne.

"...and we played baseball when Buck came back to visit us."

"You've already told me in one of the five hundred letters you wrote." Joe interrupts before George could launch into another animated recount of their friends' shenanigans. It's just stalling. They keep skirting around the things that matter - Joe's leg and what he was torn away from because of it.

"That's not the same." 

George's wide grin fades, but the corners of his lips are still curving up. His head is propped up on his right hand, and the ray of sunshine that streams in through the window breaks on the back of his fingers. It casts a darker shadow on his mouth, while the rest of his face is bathed in orange light. The tips of his thick eyelashes seem to glow. He and Joe watch each other, unblinking, and the clock on the wall ticks down the seconds, one, two, ten, a minute. 

If he could find his voice, Joe would ask him if he still remembers how they kissed for the first time, behind the barracks with their shiny new jump wings on their chests, and how different it was to the last one. Then, he'd ask if George could erase that memory from his mind so that it would only haunt Joe for the rest of their lives. George seems to have spotted the sorrow in his eyes or felt the happiness vanish from the air, because he puts his left hand on Joe's right. The pain makes Joe's eyes close, but his hand, unbidden, turns over under George's. 

"I can't be that to you anymore." Joe says. He feels the caress of fingertips run along the lines of his palm and over each of his fingers. He curls them into a fist, but George leaves his own trapped in that grip, squeezing just as hard. They hold onto each other.

"Why not?"

Joe looks up. "I'm not the man I used to be."

"Neither am I." George's eyes are dark and serious. 

"If you saw me under these clothes, you'd realise there's nothing left to attract you."

"Let me be the judge of that." George says and stands up, walking around the table. 

When he reaches for the first button of Joe's shirt, Joe shakes his head, but lets it happen. He left his dignity somewhere between France and the ship back home, nothing physical matters anymore. George's hand slips under the left flap of the shirt and runs up to his collar, then rubs the base of his neck. The shirt falls off Joe's shoulders and leaves his arms bare, and nothing could keep the memories at bay, Joe feels like he's back in an English alley, fumbling in the dark and dying from every stolen touch, careless about the dirt and the rush because it's all they have.

"I have seen worse." George hums and smiles, palming Joe's biceps.

Joe gives him a flat look. "You know which part I meant."

George ignores him. Something else has caught his attention and put a delighted glint in his eyes. His fingertips trace the muscles up to Joe's left shoulder almost reverently. "A tattoo?"

"My jump wings." Joe explains. He can't tear his gaze away from George's crooked smile, because he hasn't seen it in more than a year and it's suddenly beautiful. "A fella inked it on me in the hospital."

"Nice choice."

"I wished I could have gone AWOL, but…" He shrugs, forlorn. "What do you think?"

"Not a speck of dust on them, Corporal." George teases. He swipes his thumb over one wing, then the other, and leans down, closer than any measure of decency would allow. His scent is unfamiliarly clean, but it's the most desirable thing Joe has ever smelled. "Why didn't you mention it in your letters?"

Joe tangles his hand in George's collar. He should push him away, but finds that he can't. "It wouldn't have been the same."

George makes a helpless noise of surprise and falls into him, kissing Joe's lips until they burn, and Joe knows it's a mistake, but he kisses back. It's neither like the first, nor like the last kiss they had during the war. It's not excited or distraught, but relieved.

  


_ ~End~  
_

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is love 🙂


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